The Forgotten Quartet
by VanillaCentaur
Summary: One innocent mistake changed the fate of an entire nation. Will the four from a forgotten time be able to undo the problems of their past? Or will they once again be lost to someone else's destiny?
1. Prologue 1

**The Forgotten Quartet**

**Prologue: Part 1**

_by Van C  
_

The dark juice of the silver apple trickled slowly from the corner of the woman's intensely red lips, making an ugly stain against her ash white skin. With each bite she took, the towering woman could feel more strength than she had ever known flow through her already strong body. As she swallowed the sweet juices, she could feel her heart's greatest desire coming to pass: eternal youth and beauty. A smile of pure pleasure twitched its way across her perfect lips as she took in a deep breathe of cool fresh air in preparation for her final bite, but she was interrupted.

The golden gates that she hadn't noticed on the far side of the garden swung silently open to let in the much smaller figure of a boy. The surprisingly tall woman quickly stepped into the shadows and out of sight, watching him carefully make his way toward the tree from which she had just plucked the apple only moments ago. Reaching up on his toes, the boy grasped hold of one of the beautiful apples and pulled it delicately from the tree. He brought it close to his face as if to take a bite, but instead deeply inhaled its scent before putting it in his jacket pocket. Just as he was turning to leave, the woman stepped back out of the shadows, and took the final bite before tossing the core to the side and wiping the leftover juices from her mouth with the back of her hand.

The boy stared at her for a moment in surprise before he regained control of himself. As quickly as he possibly could, the boy ran from her, sprinting back to the gate through which he had come and running down the mountain slope on the opposite side. However, the woman was much faster. She vaulted over the gate and had soon gained on him as he raced towards a girl waiting on a winged horse. Once up on the horse's back, the boy turned back to face her. "Stop there," he warned, "or we'll be off!"

The woman halted instantly, but that wouldn't stop her from attempting to make him see things through _her_ reasoning. "Why do you not eat the apple?" she questioned, suddenly angry that such a small boy could resist the temptation when she, most powerful witch of Charn, gave in to the apple's draw without any hesitation. "You could live forever! We could be king and queen over all this land!"

The boy glared at her, "I'd rather not keep on living after everyone I love has died."

This surprised the witch, for she had never felt a love for anyone else that could be stronger than her own greed. Now more confused and upset than ever, she thought of another idea, "What about your mother?"

"What about her?" he questioned suspiciously.

"Well," the witch could see she had struck a chord with this comment, "it just seems to me that you must not love her nearly as much as you say."

Looking miserable and angry, the boy quickly retorted, "As if you would know anything!"

The witch smiled to herself, knowing that he was swaying towards doing what she wanted him to do. "You could take that apple you have there in your pocket back with you to your world to give to your mother and save her, but instead you're going to give it to that great beastly lion. He shall eat it for his own benefit, and then where will you be? Back where you started, trying to save your poor mother."

At this, the boy's face scrunched up in agony. "I can't do that. I promised."

"So you're going to let your mother die and your father be heartbroken just because you made some promise to a lion? You didn't even realize what you were doing."

"Mother would never want me to do it." The boy hoarsely choked out, as if he were trying to convince himself of that fact. "She always says to keep your promises and never steal."

"She would never have to know," the witch smiled at him sweetly. "Just go now. Take the fruit and return with it to your world. You can even leave the girl if you wish, it does not matter." As she said the final sentence, the boy's face changed rather quickly, as if waking up from a dream. He looked at her very solemnly; like she was the biggest, most disgusting liar he had ever seen. Turning his back on her, the boy looked past the quiet girl sitting in front of him and told the horse it was time to return. It instantly spread its wings wide, lifting them into the air and flying back down the mountain from whence they came.

The witch watched them for only a split-second before turning toward the northwest and letting her long legs carry her quickly away. She marched for several miles without ever tiring before turning to look back down the mountain, past the garden, to the small shape of a green meadow with miniscule figures dancing about a larger golden one joyously. Anger and envy washed over her, but even from such a distance, she could almost smell the sweet scent of the apple. Consumed with loathing, she turned from there, wishing she could go down and rip their world apart, but refusing at the same time to be anywhere near the tree of the apple she was sure the boy had planted by now.

With her back towards their merriment and a scowl upon her face, the witch continued northwestward to find herself a home in the mountains, vowing to some day return and ruin the lives of the ones she blamed for her own unhappiness.

* * *

**Author Note:** I know, this is a super short chapter; but don't worry, the next one will be up in a couple days and it's quite a bit longer. I wrote the whole prologue a while ago, but I wanted to break it up like this. Please let me know what you think. I'll take all comments and advice; good or bad. Thanks, VC.


	2. Prologue 2

**The Forgotten Quartet**

**Prologue: Part 2**

_by Van C  
_

A very tall woman sat hunched over a large scroll, in which she was scribbling. Her long disarrayed hair fell down around her fiercely pale and beautiful face. Every now and then her eyes would flash up from what she was doing and she would lick her lips as if tasting the air. For the most part she muttered to her self incoherently about magic, apples, and lions. However, even with the signs of madness dawning, she still had such a fierceness and pride about her to make a weak-hearted person faint in terror.

The woman sat up and smiled to herself as a small mouse scurried across the stone floor of her large room. Quicker than lightning she pointed what looked to be a long golden wand at the innocent creature and watched it turn to stone. Evil laughter echoed through the empty castle as she cackled in utter glee. She had mastered yet another spell in the art of dark magic that she could use to one day conquer all the worlds. At this thought she threw back her head and sniffed excitedly, but she was soon disappointed. The sickeningly, sweet smell of deliciously, juicy apples filled her nostrils, making her mouth water and her mind go blank with rage and loathing.

She had long since lost track of the years she had lived sequestered in this stone castle, empty of anything but for the cluttered remains of rodents and the few passers-by who had suffered from some spell gone awry. It must have been centuries by now, but that really didn't matter. All that mattered to her was the fact that the hated apple tree was, from the prominent smell, still standing; keeping her from her revenge.

Turning away from the open window she had gotten up to stand by, the witch slowly made her way to her bed. Sinking down into it, she closed her eyes, if for no other purpose than giving her mind a slight rest from its constant thoughts.

The hours slowly went by and the shadows shifted with the light until everything was blended into darkness and complete silence reigned. That's when it happened; the witch jolted upright into a sitting position, once again sniffing erratically at the air. What she found seemed to please her because a devilishly gleeful grin spread its way across her face. The grin stayed plastered there in satisfaction as she lay back down for the first peaceful sleep she had had in several hundred years.

The next morning, the witch arose with the sun, often pausing in her movements to take in long, drawn-out breaths of air. Someone watching from the shadows might think she had never known the scent of cool fresh air before from the way she tried to exhale as little as possible, instead gulping in the air like there would be no tomorrow. Walking towards the window so that she could see the winter birds outside who were singing joyously to each other, she stood and pondered their simple beauty.

Casting off her worn and dirty garments, the witch spread her arms out to embrace the complete emptiness that surrounded her. Grasping hold of the wand that seemed always to be at her side, she turned once again to the birds. Without so much as a second thought, her wand flicked toward the largest one that sat perched on the small spire outside her window. With a flash of light and swirls of smoke, the bird vanished. In its place lay an elegant dress, covered with feathers and droplet-like gems in soft, attractive patterns. Squawking in fear and confusion, the previous bird's mate flapped its wings and fled before he too could be turned into a garment of clothing. The witch scowled at the dress and cursed under her breath; it was supposed to appear on her body, not stay out there out of reach. Glaring forcefully at the dress as if it had somehow opposed her will, she flicked her wand at it again. This time, she succeeded; vanishing from its position, it reappeared in place on her long frame.

The witch smiled down at herself, then turned towards the door, triumph written plainly on her face. The time had finally come, and she would have to look her best when she enforced her will upon all the land.

Sounds of nature filled the clear morning air. The crickets could be heard, singing to each other of times long past. Gentle snowflakes began to fall down slowly on the tree-covered mountain and a slight breeze flowed wistfully through the rustling leaves. One thing stuck out from the tranquil silence; the crunching sound of fallen leaves being crushed under soft leather boots. From out of the forest walked the tall, dark figure of the witch. Her once disheveled appearance and slightly glazed expression had been replaced by confidence and long pent up excitement. Her strides were filled with purpose and pride; and her beauty, which had been marred by madness, once again shown brightly.

It seemed as though nothing at all could distract her from her steady trek down the mountain, but that was not so. As she came to a bend in the path, a sudden unnatural chill ran through her body that brought her movement to a sudden stop in confusion. A feeling of innocent delight and laughter flashed through her and vanished just as quickly. What was this strange magic?

Putting all her concentration into the act, the witch paid close attention to the space around her, all of her focus going into finding the source of that odd sensation. What she found surprised her. The translucent, glistening shape of an odd spirit flitted about excitedly. It seemed as if the snow and cold followed in its path, and as its arm-like projections moved about, frost swirled around them. The scene reminded her of a small slave child she had once watched; he had been covered in mud, dancing about flicking it here and there in patterns known only to himself. Realization began to dawn. This odd entity must be the Winter Spirit, or as her people had called it, "Bringer of the Chill."

"Hello, little one." The witch whispered enticingly, causing the small apparition to freeze in its motions in surprise. "What are you doing?"

_Can you see me?_ a soft voice questioned in her mind.

She nodded, smiling at the genderless creature, "Only a little."

The thing stared at her a moment before the area that looked to be its face seemed to smile. _I'm helping the Change to happen. Would you like to see?_ The witch snickered to herself at its completely innocent excitement and nodded her head in affirmation. The sprite flew up to a branch on a nearby tree and seemed to sit on it. As it did, frost began to form and snow began to stick on it until the branch had been weighed down about an inch.

She applauded the little creature as it fluttered back to its previous position in pleasure. "You must have so much fun..."

It nodded, and then paused in sorrowful contemplation, _But I would very much like to see a flower, or a blade of green grass. By my turn, they've already Changed._

Now a horrible idea made its way into the witch's thoughts. "What if you were to come inside me?" At the shock that radiated from the sprite, she pushed forward. "I could show you what a flower looks like." It looked at her uncertainly; wondering if something like that was even possible. "You have nothing to fear from me, little one."

Slowly it inched towards her, its doubt still evident. Once it was an arms-length from her, it rushed forward and plunged itself into her chest. The breath was knocked from her body as the witch fell backwards from the impact. As the spirit's essence meshed with her own, the witch felt that previous chill run all through her body and settle there. _May I see now?_ the creature asked in delight at the mere prospect. Without giving any consideration, the witch created a mental image of the first flower that came to mind. It was a brightly colored lily, the most resilient and beautiful of all the, now long dead, plants of her homeland. She could hear the spirit's gasp of awe at the flower's magnificence. _Thank you,_ it whispered before attempting to leave her body.

However, it was unable to. "I'm sorry, little creature," the witch spoke softly, "but I cannot let you leave. I need the power you hold." Turning back onto the path, she continued in her march down the mountain, frost following in her footsteps and the spirit's terrified pleading slowly fading into her subconscious. Several hours passed before she came to the edge of the land she had been seeking, but the witch could not yet let down her guard and bask in the thought of her eminent victory.

A menacing growl from right ahead in her path caused the witch to freeze in place, wand held at the ready for any attack that may come. "Who goes there, Stranger?" a gruff voice snarled from the shadows.

Standing up straight and tall with pride, the witch stared down into the flashing eyes of a giant, grey wolf. "I am Jadis, the Final Queen and Supreme Magician of Charn. I have come to conquer this realm and rid it of those who have oppressed me for so long!" The wolf's deep-throated chuckle caused her to pause uncertainly and stare at him in slight confusion.

"Well, that's some introduction." He bowed is head in a mock solute. "They call me Fenris Ulf, pack leader of the banished grey wolves of Narnia, at your service." The witch's eyes narrowed at his mockery and she drew her wand back, preparing to strike. In the blink of an eye, the wolf had his front paws up on her shoulders and his snout inches from her nose. "You," he muttered as he sniffed at her startled face, "smell strongly of very formidable magic." At this, his large eyes glanced past her to the trail of snow growing in her wake, "And you bring the power of winter along your path." Seemingly satisfied, he returned to the ground and looked at her speculatively. "My pack has suffered a great injustice at the hands of the reigning humans, who call us barbaric and cruel. We merely follow the path our hunger takes us down. If you have use for us in your quest, we will be at your service, oh great Ice Queen. We shall be the first of, I suspect, many more to come."

The corners of her mouth twitched up in a sly and thoughtful smile at the wolf's suggestion.

_Please! Let me free!_ the sprite's soft voice cried out in despair, but the witch blocked it away in the back of her mind. Thus, her long awaited revenge had begun.

* * *

**Author Note:** Thank you very much to my two reviewers: _VampiresWizardsCliquesOhmy_ and _simbelmyrne_. You guys are my first ever. Here's the second part of the prologue I promised. It might not be as long as I would have hoped, but it is definitely longer than the last one. For those of you who guessed or wondered; Yes, the last part was from the Magician's Nephew. I considered going into more detail and history, but what you read is what I ended up deciding on. Please, I love reviews. If I end up getting five or more, then I will go ahead and post my replies to them here in my Author's Note section. Also, feel free to check out my account at FictionPress; links to both are on my profile. Thanks lovelies, VC.


	3. Prologue 3

**The Forgotten Quartet**

**Prologue: Part 3**

_by Van C  
_

The witch stood in the center of a clearing, her arms spread wide in a bliss of power as snow and ice swirled fiercely around her tall figure. She had just sent the wolves on a mission to "dispose" of the unfortunate human rulers. They would be unable to defend themselves in their unsuspecting state of denial. The magical tree that had shielded them for so long was gone, and they did not even realize the danger that was so near at hand. She chuckled to herself at the grim and terrible fate that awaited them when the wolves would finally repay them for the wrongs they had committed.

A soft cry of despair thrummed through her mind, but she ignored it, just has she had been doing for the past hour. When it had become apparent to the Winter Spirit that the witch did not intend to let it go, it had set up the dreadful keening that had caused her head to ache. The sound had now dulled, and it seemed it was fading away.

Looking around gleefully at her icy handiwork, the witch chuckled a bit maniacally. Realizing almost instantly how she sounded, she coughed to herself and stood even taller, as if that would make up for her lapse in sanity.

All the forest animals had long since burrowed away into their hiding places, not sure what to do with themselves in such an onslaught. The only ones standing in the witch's way were the humans, and they would soon be taken care of. Now that her victory was upon her, the witch could barely contain her excitement. She knew that she would have to find other followers and supporters than just the wolves eventually if she had any hope of holding power, but for the time being she chose to bask in her own delight.

Her grin was exuberant, but it fell away suddenly. The soft keening had stopped. It was now being replaced by strange whispers of conversation. The witch tried to focus on what the voices were saying, but they spoke in a language foreign to her. One of them, she could tell, was the spirit inside of her; it was the loudest and most urgent of the voices. Then there were three others; each seeming to come from a different direction, but from the volume of their voices, they were approaching her at a swift speed. Her face scrunched up in confused speculation, and then grew wide in realization. For the first time since she had come to this dreadful place and met the Lion, the witch felt the slimy grip of fear inching into her thoughts.

As if her realization cued their arrival, the voices grew to almost a shouting match inside her mind and it took all her strength and resistance not to double over in pain. Because of the spirit's sight having blended with her own, it was much easier for her to make out the shadowy forms of the three spirits who had made their way to her little clearing. The snow that she had covered the ground with melted away as one passed over it, while flowers popped out of the ground under another, and a few of the remaining green plants turned different shades of autumn under the last. It was the most mesmerizing event the witch had beheld since the fall of Charn, with all the seasons mixing in an angry swirl of colors.

She could see that even the Dryads, who were so long-lived that they didn't often take part in matters of the 'young' species, were upset by this meeting of the seasons. It was like everything in the clearing that was effected by the Changing throughout the year, was being affected at an exponential rate; a year being condensed into a minute and repeating itself for an hour. The three spirits spun around her, continuing in their private debate, until they all chorused together in what she could only assume was affirmation.

_Will you let our young sibling go?_ one of the three questioned in her mind. She could sense from its solemn tone that it had been more of a demand than a request. The spirit who had spoken moved slightly closer to her and she was rather surprised to see that it was the Spring Spirit. She had often heard that Spring was the most cheerful, but the spirit before her seemed the gravest of all four. In a way, it made sense; Spring was the oldest of all the seasons, and Winter the youngest.

Her only reply was a challenging growl. A moment later she had cause to regret such a rash response when the three spirits simultaneously plunged through her body. The pain was immeasurable as they took turns attempting to rip the Winter Spirit from her body. They did not once pause inside her for her to be able to ensnare them as she had Winter, but instead sliced through her with lightening speed.

She tried to cast a spell on one of them as it paused outside her body, but it went straight through it and landed on a great oak tree, turning it instantly to stone and freezing the Dryad inside. This only worsened her cause because all the Dryads surrounding their fellow began to hiss at her in anger; intensifying the throbbing in her head. Her vision slowly became blurry and she began to lose focus of what was happening through the haze of pain. Everything flashed through her consciousness in an explosion of images and feelings:_  
- - - _The wolves returning to find the clearing a whirl of chaos._  
- - - _The trees whipping their limbs about in rage._  
- - - _The solemn resolution of the spirits as they charged through her body._  
- - - _The contents of her stomach steaming in the mud at her feat._  
- - - _The wolves pacing and gnashing their teeth at the edge of the clearing._  
- - - _Her own voice raised in a shriek of agony._  
- - - _The sharp pain of her nails biting into her palms as she collapsed to her knees._  
- - - _The roar of the wind as it spiraled around the confrontation._  
- - - _Her need to remain conscious so that they couldn't take the power back from her.

She could feel her mind slipping away in the onslaught of pain, and in a final desperate attempt to succeed, the witch pulled her lips back in a snarling grimace. Through her befuddlement, she was able to find her voice and call out the Deplorable Word as her last hope.

The chaotic noise of the clearing instantly quieted to silence, and everything froze in their movements to stare at her. It had not had anywhere near the effect in this place as it would have in Charn, but it did benefit her. Speaking such an evil in that place of calm agreeableness caused an even greater disturbance in the flow of things. The wolves seemed uncertain of how they should feel about this new evil, while the spirits looked on with a new level of disgust. Seeming to draw strength from the language of her homeland, the witch stood up to her full height. She threw her arms wide in a burst of adrenaline that shot snow and ice all through the clearing. Winter settled back on everything as it had been before, though it did not touch the three spirits or the ground beneath them as they contemplated her.

Her cackle pierced the silent stillness and she smiled with wicked triumph at the spirits. They stared back at her, but unlike all the other creatures around them, there was no fear or awe, merely observation. Rage began to fill the witch at their lack of reaction. She wanted them to tremble in fear from her display of obvious power. She wanted them to flee from her. Instead, they just watched her blankly. Slowly they floated closer to her, and she couldn't contain herself from flinching slightly away from the pain she knew they could inflict on her.

The spirit she knew now as Spring once again came forward to be the mouth for the others. _You will have your power._ Winter let out a wail of despair inside her mind, but she looked at Spring in confusion. Why would they just give up like that? _Do not cry_, it spoke softly to Winter, _we will come back for you._ Now it turned its attention back to the witch with a much graver tone. _And when we do, any advantage you have now will be forfeit._

Spinning to gaze upon all the others within distance, it called out in a voice different from its own, as if another was speaking through it. _Hear this and remember!  
- - - - - When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone  
- - - - - Sits at Cair Paravel in throne,  
- - - - - The evil time will be over and done._  
The witch felt a shiver of trepidation run down her spine at the prophetic words. Though few could actually see the spirits, Spring's voice filled all their minds with the prophecy. The words were whispered through the trees for all the creatures to hear, so that they might have hope in the upcoming darkness. _And when They come,_ Spring once again turned back to the witch, _your grip on our sibling will quickly loose its strength._

The spirit moved as if to leave, but was stopped by a soft whisper from Autumn, _Shall I give her a parting gift? So that she will not forgot us in our absence?_

The witch was surprised to hear a hint of spitefulness hidden beneath the once gentle voice. It appeared she wasn't the only one when Summer spoke up for the first time with hesitation. _I…do not…think—_

_No, it's alright,_ Spring interrupted with a sad sigh. _You may if you wish, but do not think that it will affect only her._

Summer turned away so it wouldn't have to watch, while Spring looked on in silent sorrow as Autumn slowly wrapped itself around the witch's mind. She curled her hands against her temples with a hiss of pain as her mind seemed to compress and expand, bloom then shrivel. Suddenly the Autumn Spirit snapped from inside her head with a wail of comprehension. _What have I done?_ Where once a clear, sparkling spirit floated, there was now a hint of darkness whirling inside the translucent body. With a final cry of despair as it seemed to scratch at itself, the spirit flew away, eastward over the Ocean.

The witch watched as the final two spirits flew away after their sibling, sadness following them like a mist. She turned back to find the wolves sitting in front of her, watching her with unreadable expressions. "The deed is done," Fenris Ulf greeted in his gruff voice. "You are the new Queen of Narnia." The witch had finally gotten what she wanted, but her triumph was dampened by the Winter Spirit's voice in the back of her head. _They'll be back,_ it whispered, _they'll be back.

* * *

_

**Author Note:**That's it folks; the final part of my happy prologue! I'm rather excited. This looked a bit better in Microsoft Word, but I suppose I'll have to be satisfied with FanFiction's lack of maneuverability with the coding. (Hint: I'm referring to how there's a bunch of dashes in certain areas. It was tabs in Word, and in coding you can usually make blank areas, but the editor refuses to let me.) Once again, my gratitude goes out to my two reviewers (_VampiresWizardsCliquesOhmy _and_WingedFlight_), I love you guys for just being here. My next chapter might not be quite as quickly. I know how it starts, how it ends, and the gist of the middle area, but it's still not all that easy to hash it out into writing. Okay, well, happy reading everyone. VC.


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